


Flowers Pick

by CousinNick



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinNick/pseuds/CousinNick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the bonfires of Midsummer are lit along the land, Berwald can only think of one thing. His summer Bride, Tino, and how badly he wants to be with him. Will Berwald's Midsummer plan fail as he thinks it will? Or will a small little flower ensure his love? Rated M for reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midsummer

Damn, all these fanfiction's keep spewing out of my head! Make it stop! Ah anyway, multiple pairings and stuffz so enjoy. AND REVIEW DAMNIT. I do not own Hetalia.

…

"Like…Why are we, like, doing this again?" The blonde Polish man whined again, trudging through the scratchy fields of the meadow. Small wildflowers already bloomed and were nestled in the dry prickly grass. The small clustered group of boys had been wandering around the back skirts of the village for nearly an hour now, and the sun on their backs was beginning to grow blistering and brutal. The Polish man whined again.

Nikolas, the Norwegian leader of the group just frowned blankly. "Because we were dared to Feliks." He stated with spite, turning to glare at his younger brother Björt. Björt just laughed cruelly.

"What? Are you going to back out on a dare, Nikolas?" his little brother taunted, pinching his own cheeks back to make a face, his babyish eyes showing bright. Norway sneered, getting ready to pound the little Icelandic into the ground.

"I'll kill you when we get home…" were all the words the fair haired Norwegian said, turning back to the field.

"Come on guys, it's not thaaaaaat bad." Tino, the overly cheerful, happy-go-lucky, member of the group tried his best to smile. Norway glared at him. Tino fidgeted and laughed nervously, turning to gaze at Feliks once more.

"Um…like, guys? What was the dare again?" the Polish man asked, flipping his hair back. Fishing a leather cord from his tunic he grabbed a fistful of his wheat colored hair and tied it back. Then, scooping up a flower that he deemed nice enough, stuck the blossom behind his ear.

Björt smiled once more. "Since the Midsummer feast is tomorrow, I wanted to try out a little experiment."* He trailed off, sitting himself down on an old stump. The three boys looked nervously at the small Icelandic. They didn't like the wording the smaller boy had used, and they certainly didn't like the wicked gleam in his sky blue eyes.

"I want you guys…to do the flower tradition."* It was said simply, with little menace, yet it made each boy cringe.

"Perkele! But we are not girls!" Tino shouted out, his eyes wide. There was no way in hell he was doing this, he would be the laughing stock of the entire village! To do the flower tradition…and as a man no less! Why, it was one of the most embarrassing things he could do! Well…maybe not as embarrassing as what Mathias, their Danish friend did last year when he was found drunk and kissing a cow in the barn. Yep, nothing was that embarrassing.

Feliks lips pulled into a pout. He plopped in the grass and grabbed a handful of the straggly weeds.

"Like, someone is like, going to have to explain this to me, like, now!" he complained, throwing the weeds in to the air, watching as the wind drifted them away. Nikolas sighed, clearly annoyed.

"Ah… that's right. Felik's moved here in the winter from Poland. He doesn't know what the flower tradition is!" Tino exclaimed, sitting down next to the Polish boy, who Tino noticed, was wearing a woman's tunic instead of a boy's one.

"Like, if you guys are talking about Wianki, then I know what it is."* The pole said, dusting off his bright green tunic. Norway shook his head.

"No. It's a silly tradition that the girls partake in every Midsummer." Nikolas groaned out, picking up a dandelion and twirling it around his fingers.

"What's it like, entail?" Felik's asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. Tino sighed and plucked a small white yarrow flower from its stem. He gazed at the flower before handing it to Feliks. The Pole accepted it with glee, adding it to his hair.

"The night before Midsummer, when the smaller bonfires are lit and the village huts are decorated with flowers, the unmarried maidens in the village go out into the fields at dusk and each pick seven different wild flowers from the meadow, then that all race over the rounded gate poles of the livestock's paddock's and run back home were the flowers are put under their pillows." The Finn explained, leaning back and resting his head on the grass. Somewhere to the South a ewe bleated and a farmer's horn was called, but other than that the meadow was contently silent.

Feliks smiled. "I love flowers, like, what's so bad about that?" He asked, emerald green eyes shining.

"It gets worse…" Nikolas sighed, resting his head in his palms as he sat down on the dry pasture floor.

"When the maidens go to sleep, the flowers are supposed to enchant their dreams and while they sleep, their husbands face will be shown in their dreams…." The Finn finished, sitting up straight.

"Björt, do we have to do it? Were not girls, and it's stupid anyway!" Tino pleaded with the younger lad. But the silver haired boy would have none of it. Crossing his arms over his doe skinned jerkin he shook his head.

"A dares a dare." He stated childishly. He was not going to budge and inch. Nikolas frowned.

"Björt, we shouldn't mess with magic. You know that Midsummer is the longest day of the year, a day of divination and the supernatural! We'll only anger the Gods with our trickery; do you really want to piss off the Goddess?" he added, looking his brother square in the jaw. Björt's face looked a bit pale for a split second but then it resumed its haughtiness.

"So, does this mean you're a coward?" the little Scandinavian asked, mocking his older brother. Nikolas's face kept its cool demeanor.

"Fine, I'll do it. But don't come crying to me when you wake up tomorrow with Thor's hammer up your ass…" The Nordic warned.

Björt suddenly smiled cheerfully. "Just for that, you all have to do this while wearing girl's dresses!" The little boy giggled, swinging his little legs off the stump. Nikolas and Tino's faces drained of all their color.

"No." the two repeated with deadly swiftness. There was no way in hell Tino was dressing up in a silly girls dress to go pick damn flowers and hop over fences! No way in this world or the next!

Feliks then clapped his hands in a friendly motion, trying to dispel the tension. "Come on guys, so what if it's like, a bit embarrassing? Were men! We can like, take the embarrassment!" His voice shook with courage. Tino sighed. A dare was a dare…

After the rest of the two boys silently agreed to the troublesome challenge, they all sat up and dusted off their tunics. Tino looked to the sky. It was a deep sea blue, but soon it would turn a bloodied orange, with a few salmon colored clouds squeezing in from the sun. It was time for them to get going, there was only a few hours of day light left!

"All right, we'll meet back here with the women at dusk, so don't be late!" Björt chuckled to himself. Nikolas swatted at his brothers head playfully.

"Just you wait Björt; we'll get you for this." He threatened, giving the little seven year old a noogie. Björt whined and broke free from his brother's arms, running around like a mad goat, bucking and kicking along the high grass. The three boys, all over nineteen winters just laughed at the little boy, trying to get the awful terms of the dare out of their mind. It was only when they heard the shrill sound of the hunting horn that they all turned their heads behind them.

"The hunters must have gotten a good feast," Tino observed, pausing in his steps to gaze at the source of the sound. Feliks nodded and then smiled suddenly. "Well, I don't like, know about you guys, but it's too damn hot! Let's like, go for a swim, huh?" he asked, swaying in the grass, he began to walk towards a few boulders that led the way to a fat and lazy river that cut near the village. The rest of the boys nodded in agreement and hurriedly ran to the river, laughing and making crude jokes all along the way.

…

The pig made a harsh squeal as its belly was ripped open from the obsidian arrow, the shaft of the dart sticking out limply from the now bloodied flesh. The sow gave one more harsh grunt before her throat was slit, entreating the forest to silence. She plopped to the floor and sank into the musty, rotten leaves. Her hunter crouched down and ripped out the arrow, squinting as blood hit him lightly in the face; it was hot and tasted of dreadful iron. He licked his lips.

He tossed the now broken arrow in the leather nap sack and turned back to the pig. He laid his hands across her eyes, closing them, watching the glow of life leave the pupils, enchanting the creature with death. He then snaked his hands to her belly, where the mortal wound still bled. The bent figure placed his fingers upon her flesh, letting them lightly lace on her belly, covering the wound, the blood. He thanked the forest and the Gods for the sow's meat, knowing that nothing of this world could hear the words he spoke in his head.

Then, as quickly as the young man had knelt, he was back on his feet. Near the pig, he scrambled around until he grabbed the hind legs of the sow and hoisted the swine on his bare shoulder. The blood began to slide down his pale, almost translucent frame, sticky and nauseatingly sweet.

It had been an hour since he left the hunting party, choosing to hunt along the forest instead of the meadow. Looking up at the sun he could hear the soft shouts of his hunting party. They were near the river, not too far off he guessed. Slapping the pig on the rock floor, he wiped his hands on his tunic. As hungry as he was, he would gut the pig and carry it over to the village for everyone to share. He smiled. They would be so proud of him, all of them-even him. Blushing slightly at the mention of 'him', Berwald shook his head to dispel his thoughts.

Then, digging his knife hesitantly into the quickly chilling carcass, he began cutting up and down, spearing chunks of meat on shaven pine bows and placing it over his back. In a few seconds he heard the laughing and the joking voices of the rest of the hunters. A few of them carrying a kill of some sort. Three rabbit's, a few stray hens, and even a string of trout. They would eat well tonight.

After pausing to greet Berwald, the loudest of the hunters and the one Berwald surely hated the most, smiled at the tall Swede.

"Well, Berwald, it seems like you've caught another big one, eh?" the Danish man asked, eyeing the slowly bleeding pig. Berwald grunted in an answer before hoisting up a pine bough that had the head of the pig, he gestured for the rest of the hunters to bring the meat and follow him.

But then that annoying voice that he hated so much stopped him.

"Whoa whoa buddy. Were all tired, and well, frankly we smell, and by we I mean you." Berwald glared up at the blonde blue eyed Dane. "So. Can't we just take a quick dip in the river to wash up? The meat will be fine by the river if we keep it on the rocks?" he proposed, resting his hands on his hips. Berwald furrowed his brows. He did smell…and he did desperately want to dive into the cool river water. But he shook his head.

"It go bad." He grumbled, picking up the pine pikes again and hauling them over his shoulder. Mathias, the Dane, scowled.

"Well I'm taking a damn swim!" he shouted, his voice full of spite, trampling off through the forest he left Berwald with the rest of the hunters, a skinny lithe Lithuanian with bark russet hair, a tall broad and flaxen haired German, along with his annoyingly vocal albino brother, and an easy go lucky Spaniard with bright eyes.

The men, who had decided to help Berwald instead of go to the river, each took up a spit of meat and together they carried back the food to the village. It was a short walk but due to the blazing sun it was torturous work, and for Berwald, who was covered in blood, it was sticky and uncomfortable.

But, after much curse words and cackling, from the albino German mostly, they were able to bring the meat back to the village. Berwald, assuring the men that he could take care of it from here, carefully speared the hog on the fire pit, and set the planks of meat to cook. Then, turning to the head cook, a skinny French man gave him the right away to roast the meat. Berwald had to make sure this Midsummer was perfect. He had to make sure the village had enough to eat, and that the bonfire was ready to be lit at twilight. Everything had to go according to plan. Because this was the only shot Berwald had.

Berwald was well aware of the Midsummer night traditions, on this night, the sun was at its peak, and so, the people of the camp all got up to dance around the fire, drums beating, feat leaping up into the earth, and the sweet aroma of flowers filling the crackling air. After homage to the Sun was paid, the people would then feast and drink their fill of ale, bread and meat.

And then it was the maiden's dance.

Berwald felt a shiver run through him. As the fires were stoked, and the time approached, the unwedded females, and sometimes males, would skip to the bonfire and dance around magically in traditional robes, their hair crowned with heather, yarrow, broom and meadows sweet. And then Berwald would see him. The domination of Berwald's affection. Tino Väinämöinen. The sole thing in this world that could make Berwald's heart beat like it was on fire. The young boy, with hair like crystal snow, eyes like the bright violet of the morning glories that dusted the meadows, and that smooth skin, like churned butter. The youth was everything that Berwald craved. And tonight Berwald would take the Finn as his midsummer bride.

Berwald turned to the roasting pig. It had taken him forever to track the damn sow down. Berwald looked to his upturned hand; he felt a stinging sensation flame up from his wrist to seep out of his palm. Blood. Bringing the boar down had not been easy, and he paid for it with a tusk slitting into his palm back in the forest. Berwald sighed and squeezed his hand into a fist.

He had brought down that swine just for Tino, so that the Finn would find him worthy. Only a warrior or a hunter with sure accomplishment could pick a bride first tonight, and Berwald had worked his very hardest to ensure himself first pick. By being the best hunter, finest swordsmen, and greatest provider for the village, he had acclaimed many achievements in the clan that most men never hoped to attain. And though Tino was not a maiden, Berwald did not mind.

The Finn was still as beautiful as any of the women in the camp and still as attractive to the Swede as any female he had ever laid eyes on. Berwald only hoped that the Gods would be kind to him this midsommarstång*, and grant him his summer bride.

Berwald was torn away from his thoughts as a stray white dog began to lick up his leg, trying to lap up the dribbling blood that was still on the Swede. Grunting and shooing the dog off the Swede decided to go down to the river to wash off, yet the door still followed, bounding around the Swede's legs. Begrudgingly he trotted off through the thicket in the direction of the river banks, the small little pup close behind.

…


	2. Do You Remember?

This was fun to do… I do not own Hetalia! REVIEW PLEASE I LIVE OFF OF THEM!

…

The water left puckered Goosebumps on the boy's arms as they shuffled into the clear and rushing river water. Summer's lazy tone had made them all thirst for the splash of the waves and the currant of the streams as they waded farther and farther into the brook.

Tino's teeth chattered noisily as he advanced further into the bitterly cool water. Wobbling around in the rushing of the waves, he grabbed blindly for the long stalks of grass that grew along the stream, using them to balance himself before turning behind him to see the rest of his friends. Nikolas had planted himself on the sandbar; swishing his feet in the water while his little brother walloped and shrieked in the stream, giggling as he tried to catch minnows with his bare hands. Feliks had perched himself on a slippery charcoal colored rock in the middle of the river, he began to comb his hands through hair, smiling and humming a song.

Soon others joined in, the Italian twins who were brought last year to the village by their Grandfather, a sweet girl named Elizabeta who lived with her Austrian husband, and Eduard and Raivis, who lived together in a big long house with their adopted brother Liet. All at once the nine youths began to talk and splash in the water, all getting soaked and giggling in the streams gem blue water, all excited for tonight and tomorrow's festivities.

It was Elizabeta who first spoke up about the night's pre-Midsummer festival. She bundled up her skirts in her fists and trotted into the thick and swirling water, shrieking slightly at its firm coldness. Then, her green eyes shining, she turned to Tino.

"So…I heard you boys are going to be attempting the flower tradition?" she asked, a giggle in her voice. Tino's face immediately went red. All the sudden a big sprits of water doused Tino's back, he yelped at the sheer coldness.

"Yep! They have to, they have to!" chanted Björt, as he galloped through the water to Elizabeta, and hung onto her skirts, getting messy wet little hand prints on her pleated dress. Elizabeta scooped up the child and snuggled him to her bosom.

"The whole village is talking about it. Some of the elders say it will anger the Gods, while others see no fault in it. Either way, it is not a joking matter!" She warned playfully. Feliks smiled and stepped lightly into the water, wading at mid thigh to the pretty Hungarian girl.

"Then it like, really works?" he asked, excitement hitting his voice. Elizabeta gave a bright and vigorous smile, setting Björt down she nodded.

"Oh yes, how do you think I met my husband? Last Midsummer I did the ritual and during the night, I dreamed of him! The next week he asked me to marry him!" she said, twirling around, her apron becoming soaked in the water. Then, placing a finger over her mouth she stifled a laugh.

"I wonder who you boys will see in your dreams?" she laughed, her eyes lighting with amusement. Then, one of the Italian twins, the more even tempered of the two, smiled brightly. He had been sitting quietly on a huge slopping rock that dipped into the river, braiding cords of dry heather and bright blue Aster into wreaths and crowns for the celebration tomorrow. He paused in his work to pluck a nearby blue bell from its stalk and adding it to his newest creation.

"Does it really work sister Hungary?" The Italian asked, calling her by her fond nickname. The russet haired girl clapped her hands with glee, her long eyelashes accenting the joy in her gaze.

"It does Feli, it does! Who do you hope you will see?" she asked the chestnut brunette. The young boy paused, looking up to the sun. He then craned his head down to his lap, giving a boyish smile.

"Hmmm….I hope Ludwig…ve~" he said after a few seconds, his face blushing like a pink seashell. Next to him his brother scoffed.

"Don't tell me you actually believe in some stupid folklore? And really? The Potato bastard farmer?" The older twin asked bitterly. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at the dry banks of the stream. But his twins face kept up its shinning demeanor.

"Ve~ it's a sweet tradition! And though we perform St. John's festival back home, this one sounds more fun Fratello!"* he said, swinging his legs back and forth. Feli was right, Tino thought. The festival that they held every year was fun. Tino sighed heavily. And it was all going to happen tomorrow, though there was much to prepare for tonight!

They would have a small feast tonight with the meat that the hunters brought, and then Tino would have to help Nikolas and Björt with decorating their stables and barn with greenery for good luck next year.* Tino would then have to help his aunt with the bread baking and the honeyed currants for tomorrow's feast which was always massive with many people! Tino felt a wave of nausea. Then he would have to go with the women to pick flowers for the silly tradition. He glared venomously at Björt… Why must his little cousin be so much of a pain in his Finnish ass?

But in an instant Tino's thoughts were disrupted by the sweet accent of the Hungarian woman once more.

"So Tino, who do you hope your husband will be?" she asked slyly, scooting over to the platinum blonde who just recently had been deep in thought.

"Ahh…" he started to say something but was cut off.

"Everyone knows Berwald, like, already has the hot's for him…" Feliks voice seeped through Tino's ears. In a split second the Finn's face grew as bright as the crown on a roosters head. Feliciano giggled softly, as he bent pieces of grass between his fingers once again, on his fifth wreath.

"He'd make a good husband." Nikolas said with laughter for once in his voice. Tino's face fumed, his hands balled into fists. There was no way in hell Berwald could like Tino, I mean sure, they used to be friends when they were kids, but that was a long time ago, and Tino just couldn't bring himself to even think of the possibility as the tall and outrageously scary Swedish man as his Summer husband. It even made him shudder with fright!

"Like, I heard that he's planning to ask you to be his Summer Bride!" Feliks shrieked with girlish giggles.

"But…I mean, he's so scary!" Eduard finally piped up, his hands pausing in their search for shells on the beach. It was then Raivis's turn to say something.

"He's so tall…like a bear on hind legs!" he peeped, still perched in his spot on a crooked apple tree, the green un-ripened apples budding from the bloom.

Tino fidgeted, feeling very uncomfortable at the sudden spin of the conversation. He flexed his feet under the water and tried desperately to change it, but the seed had been planted, and the Polish man Feliks would not halt in his gossip.

"Like, I heard he went with the hunters this morning to get a big boar to win your heart Tino! Isn't that like, so romantic!" The Polish man said with giddiness.

"Oh yes, because bringing me a bloodied pig carcass just screams, "I love you"." The Finn said sarcastically. He frowned and sat down next to Feli, who was just now fastening a few morning glories to the headdress.

"Well, I think it's like, romantic." The blonde Pole breathed into the air, clutching his hands to his heart. Björt giggled and plopped into the water, getting his doe hide chemise all wet.

"Tino should marry Berwald, then they can make scary giant babies!" he squealed with delight, eyeing his Finnish cousin. Tino just glared at the kid.

"Knowing Tino they'll just end up vertically challenged alcoholics." Romano said his elbows resting on his knees. The Finn gave him a dirty look before Feli caught his attention. The young Italian had fastened the wreath with the morning glories on Tino's brow, making his violet eyes show stark bright by his pale face and the glare of the sun.

"Ve~ Like a princess." Feliciano breathed, admiring his handy work.

"Like a summer bride."Elizabeta corrected, taking Tino by the hands, she lightly dipped into the water with the Finn and led him in a circular dance, her body moving with experienced knowledge while he just awkwardly swayed side to side. Soon Feliks joined in, placing a wreath of golden yarrow on his head and setting a coronet of enormous ruby red lilies atop Elizabeta's.

Raivis and Björt, joined by hands started hopping on the beach, jumping like frogs and laughing hysterically. Soon Feli had got Romano to dance and both Italian twins, with orange poppies in their hair, stomped their feet and lightly danced on the sand by the river, smiles on both their faces. Even Nikolas and Eduard, who had not gotten up to dance, wore grins on their faces as they watched their friends dance in the summer heat. And then it was all shattered by one voice.

"What do we have here? A Couple of Elves amidst us?"* The humorous voice of the Danish man made everyone halt in their steps. Slowly, the hunting party from this morning stepped through the thick river brush, the Danish man in lead, a huge lumbering axe on his shoulders. Everyone just starred.

That is, everyone else except for Feliks. The blonde man bolted out of the water to run to the brown haired Lithuanian and latched onto his side like a toddler at his mother's skirts. Liet, his face red, patted the girlish man's head with his hand.

Everyone knew something was going on between the two boys, but no one could quite guess what. Anyway, everyone let it alone and allowed the Polish man to do what he would. Who were they to place judgment on love?

Mathias, ignoring the two, stepped further onto the beach, immediately stalking out his prey. Stepping next to the Norwegian he lifted up his chin with his fingers.

"Ah…It is Maiden Bright Eye!"* his lips set into a jaded smirk. Nikolas just glared. The entirety of the inhabitants on the beach just stared.

Ludwig, the tall broad German cut through the silence. "We just brought back some game for the feasts today and tomorrow. A boar, a few hares and hens. " He informed them, his steely blue eyes looking for someone or something in particular.

Feliks gave a quick glance in Tino's direction and the mention of the boar, to which Tino just fumed and downcast his eyes in embarrassment.

"Ve~ Ludwig, did you hunt down some pasta?" the little Italian asked, tugging on the Germans arm. Said German just sighed and set the Italian sitting in the grass, trying to smile.

"Feli, Pasta is not an animal…" the German explained for the fifteenth time. The caramel eyed Italian just smiled and nodded.

"Hey, did you guys bring back anything tasty for me?" the other Italian twin asked, stepping toward the hunting party who had begun to wash themselves in the stream.

"I brought you some tomatoes, my little Lovi!" the Spanish man Antonio said happily, placing three ripe tomatoes in the Italian boy's hands.

The boy blushed but turned his back. "Ah…th-thanks….Bastard!" he breathed, tucking one of the tomatoes in his palm and biting into it quickly, tasting the sweetness of the fruit.

"So what were you guys talking about before we got here?" Ludwig's brother, Gilbert asked, scrubbing the last of the grime from his legs, a grin on his face. A small little hen's chick resting on his head.

"We were talking about how these brave young boys have decided to take the flower tradition to heart tonight." Elizabeta said a smirk on her lips. Tino's face once more blushed red.

"Kesesese…. Really now? Heh heh…" the Albino Prussian smiled wickedly. "All of you?"

"Like, no, just Tino, Nikolas and Me!" Feliks answered, adjusting the crown of flowers on his head. He stepped out of the river and made room for the sweaty and exhausted hunters, letting them have the rivers blushingly cool water to themselves.

"So Norge," as Mathias so lovingly called Nikolas, "Are you hoping you'll dream of me tonight?" He asked his voice cocky; he winked in the Norse men's direction. Nikolas rolled his eyes.

"The only dream I'd have of you Mathias, is one were your getting eaten by a bear." The Norwegian stated his eyes blank and hazy. Mathias snorted as laughter rose up from his throat.

"All I'm saying Norge is try to keep your little wet dream tonight under control. I don't want you exerting yourself tonight. You need all the strength you can get for tomorow." He said, scrubbing his back with a few blades of grass, trying to get a clump of mud off of his skin.

"Oh? And whys that?" Nikolas asked, tone remaining neutral.

Mathias's smile grew bigger, his white teeth flashing. "Because I'm going to bed you tomorrow as my Summer Bride." He said. The Norwegians face immediately grew flame red. Everyone was silent except for Gilbert's wild cackles. Then the Norwegian sat up as quick as a deer, walked over to the Dane, and, faster than it happened, shoved the man into the Stream with a big slap!

"I would rather sleep with a Troll than with you." Nikolas sneered, storming off into the meadow, leaving the sputtering Dane drenched in the water, a stunned look on his face.

"Well, we all know who's like, not getting happy fun sex time now, don't we?" Feliks voice broke through the thick silence. Everyone burst into laughter, all except the Dane.

Then, Feliciano yawned and a few of the boys looked to the sun. It was getting late, dusk was fast approaching and there was still much to do. So, wearily, everyone picked up their sopping wet clothing and started to climb the small banks up to the meadow, Ludwig helping Feliciano carry his wreaths for the Maidens dance tomorrow, Tino offering to help as well.

As everyone started walking away, Tino was left picking up the extra flower headdresses. Picking the first one up, a heathery crown of daisies, he admired its workmanship. Feliciano was certainly a pro at making these. Tino brought the cords of flowers to his nose and lightly sniffed. He then sighed with bliss at the wonderful aroma, until he heard a noise. It was a peppering noise, like little feet on dirt, but not so quite feet. Maybe hooves? No…maybe…paws? Yes, Paws! Tino turned his head behind him just in time to see a little white ball of fluff bound toward him and launch itself at the Finn. Tino fell backwards and landed on his back as the little fur ball started making whining noises and licking up along Tino's face.

Then, as quickly as it occurred, the little ball of fur was plucked up from Tino's face and the Finn was able to breathe again. He let out a small laugh as he wiped his face, feeling the air cooling the slobber on his pale cheeks, then; looking down at the floor he saw a pair of feet. Not paws, but huge, bearish feet. Tino's face paled. He knew those feet.

Daring himself to look up, only wishing he hadn't as he became face to face with his worst nightmare. Berwald. Berwald, who was holding a cute little dog in his arm. Berwald, who was shirtless except for a leather cord dangling against his back connected to a long sword. Berwald, who was covered with threads of blood. Blood. He was covered in sticky, smelly, pungent blood. Tino threw his head back and fainted, landing with a thud on the sandy beaches of the river, praying to the Gods he would never wake up again.

…

But unfortunately he did wake up. Tino stretched his arms high above his head, yawning and smelling the clean air, the smell of the late blooming flowers filling his nostrils. He cracked one eye opened and gasped. The sun had gone down slowly, leaving the sky a purplish pink. He sat up in a whirl and quickly winced. His head ached and his neck felt sore. He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. How long had he been out? He wondered.

Pushing his feet up he stood up shakily, that is until he heard a pounding splash behind him. Looking behind him he almost fainted again. Tino's eyes met with a long and powerfully built back. Water droplets glistened lightly on the torso of the man, as the cool and lucid creek water slid off his bone pale skin like the softest of cloth. Tino felt his pulse in his mouth. He knew he was staring, knew the person could have turned around and caught the young Finn spying at any time, but still Tino could not tear his eyes away.

The man had cupped his hands in the river and brought the water to his head, cleaning his flaxen wheat colored hair. Tino had to stop himself from running into the water and touching that wild mess of hair. This man was more than handsome, he was frighteningly beautiful. And Tino hadn't even seen his face yet!

But, as a few seconds passed the person, much to Tino's delight, started to turn his head. Then, in that flicker of a gaze, Tino's eyes widened. He'd know that face anywhere. Blushing deeply the Finn couldn't believe it. He had been eyeing Berwald? Berwald was the handsome man Tino had laid his eyes on not but a few seconds ago? Tino felt hot embarrassment hit him dead in the face.

Then without warning, Berwald's cerulean eyes stabbed into him. Tino immediately stepped backward, hearing a soft crunch underneath his feet. Looking down quickly he saw in horror one of the wreaths that he had stepped on. Quickly hopping over the crown of flowers with his soft leathered boot, he gave out a string of Finnish swear words. He had broken it, a beautiful headdress of primrose and daisy, a work of art that Feli had created and he broke it under his heel. His heart sunk.

But before Tino could mourn the death of the crown, two paw like hands scooped up the crushed flowers and plucked them off the skeletal grass woven ring. Placing the ruined flowers lightly in the river, Berwald set to work re-shaping the oval that was the structure of the circlet till the grass was rightly set in place. He looked to Tino and back at the headband made of dried greenery.

"F'wers." Was all he said and yet Tino understood it perfectly. They were going to try to remake the headdress. So, together they walked along the river, the white little puppy in their company, searching the meadow for flowers. They walked a little ways down the river path till they found a new clump of daisy's to replace the old ones, and even a small thicket of heather. Sitting down the two men awkwardly inspected their mission, the white puppy affectionately looking at them from a clump of clover.

The few minutes working on the wreath were met with silence as Berwald didn't offer any conversation and Tino had to bite his tongue off to not leap into small talk. There was only one thing on the young Finn's mind. Berwald was handsome. The old Berwald, the one Tino knew as a child was gangly and awkwardly tall with stooping glasses and sharp, deep set eyes. The eyes were still there, but as the years went by Berwald seemed to fit into his gangly height, and his awkward body filled out. Nicely. Tino thought while biting his lip. Berwald was a great specimen of a man… Tall with a broad back, nicely sculpted muscles from all those years hunting, wide big hands that could bring the Finn so much pleasure….

Tino shook his head, remembering Feliks words. There was no way Berwald took a liking to Tino. They were friends. Berwald and he used to bathe as kids for Ilmatar's sake!* They used to crawl around the meadows looking for worms, and then dare Mathias to eat them for a bit of honey cake! There was nothing romantic between the two, and there was nothing Tino could do to change that. Berwald was not meant for him. He would find some nice big breasted Village girl for his bride tomorrow. Not Tino…

And then it hit the Finn like a ton of bricks. He had to get ready tonight! He would have to borrow one of Elizabeta's dresses and meet Feliks and Nikolas at the main pastures for the Flower Tradition with the rest of the women. Looking up at the sky he frowned. He only had maybe an hour to get ready for the flower picking, as it was already getting late. He sighed and looked back at Berwald, whose clumsy fingers were having a hard time tying a very stubborn daisy to the crown of fragile smelling plants.

Tino, letting his hands rest atop Berwald's, slipped the daisy through the wiry grass and tied it with his delicate hands. Smiling at his handy work he looked back at Berwald, whose eyes were wide, frightened, and whose cheeks were tinted. Tino raised his brows. Don't tell me he got embarrassed from a little touch like that? He thought with surprise.

"Ah… Thank you for helping me fix it, Berwald. I really appreciate it." Tino said nervously. He sat up and cradled the wreath in his hands, picking up the other ones that had not been damaged. Once they were all in his arms he heard a whining noise and looked down to see the cute little puppy had sat beneath Tino's feet.

"Aww…" Tino, readjusting the flowers, bent down to pet the dog on the head. The little dog nuzzled her head into his palm and whimpered happily. While petting the dog, the crown of flowers on Tino's head that he forgot about fell down on the sand. Picking them up he placed them around the dogs neck with a smile. The dog, puzzled why the pretty flowers had been placed on her neck, just barked, wagging her tail.

Berwald wanted to be that dog—minus the flower part of course. He wanted to be caressed by the Finn's soft healing hands. And tomorrow, if all went well and Tino accepted him at the bonfires, perhaps he would be the one doing the caressing, he thought with a blush. Oh Tino, his lovely beautiful Tino. How the little Finn looked even more attractive to Berwald's sharp eyes. Berwald suddenly remembered when they were young.

Berwald recalled when all the other kids were unkind or distant to him simply because he was different. When Berwald would run home crying to his mamma and papa because no one had said a kind word to him. But that was until he met Tino. Tino, who lived with his cousin's Björt and Nikolas near the tall pine tree. Tino who Berwald grew to love, simply because the Finn was the only one who ever talked to Berwald. Tino, the sole reason for Berwald's heart to have a beat.

Berwald had done everything in his power to get the Finn to notice him. Berwald would wake up every morning at three, the time his papa got up to go milk the cows, and wait, with mitted hands, and a red runny nose, outside the pines to say "Hi" or "good m'rn'ng" (if he was feeling braver), to the little Finn. He would often bring Tino apples and set them by the Finn's long house steps, or bring him summer berries when the weather was best.

By the time Berwald was ten, he had already begun to learn to use a long sword, along with the Danish kid, Mathias who he disliked greatly. Mathias and him used to play sword games all the time, with wooden weapons and berry paste as war paint. And always Tino, Nikolas, and Björt would come and watch along with a few other kids.

It was that day that Berwald knew Tino would be his bride. On that day it was sunny and bright and all the adults were getting ready for Midsummer. The kids, who had been shooed away from the feast table by their mothers previously, all crowded around the meadow that they knew well and decided to play a game to use up time till the festival. It was a game they all knew well. Mathias had named it "The awesome adventures of Denmark and the stupid Swede." Berwald always did hate that title.

The game always started with Björt, the dastardly dragon, stealing the fair princess Tino and hiding her away in the castle—or a crappy pile of rocks that Gilbert had constructed using his "awesomeness" as he so put it. Mathias would play the narrator, Nikolas always played the none-too-helpful Troll, Feliks played Berwald's talking unicorn, and then there was Berwald himself who always played the knight. That was the only thing Berwald liked about that game. It always ended with him saving the pretty Princess.

But this game had a particular ending that Berwald would never forget. After the usual narration-Nikolas the Troll fighting Berwald by the stream, then Feliks the Unicorn leading Berwald to the castle, and then finally the epic battle of Berwald fighting Björt the dragon,-and then climbing up the castle stairs to where the fair Princess Tino lived. All the while the on looking kids always clapped. Then it was time for the game to end with Berwald giving a "kiss" to the fair Princess. Like a thousand times before it was just a timid brush of lips against the Finn's cheeks and it was done. The game was over. But not today. Today Berwald, ten year old Berwald wanted a real kiss. So, after climbing the pile of rocks to the sitting Finn, hearing the cheers of the audience, he held Tino by the shoulders and kissed the boy full on the lips. Behind him the cheers quieted and the Finn, blushing and wide eyed pulled away with fright. It ended so quickly. Berwald was left on the pile of rocks, the rest of the kids long having left him. His princess gone. Berwald sighed from the memory.

Tino, noticing Berwald quietness for nearly five minutes, nervously laughed. "Ah…well, thanks again Berwald, but I have to get going." Tino said.

Berwald, brought back from his memory turned sharply to the Finn. He wondered quietly in his head if Tino remembered that day. He hoped Tino didn't hate him for it… Berwald just really wanted that kiss.

"T'no…" The name felt odd on his tongue. He had never spoken the Finnish boys name before and it gave him a little shiver.

Tino looked up at the use of his name. He had started walking up the drift path from the river and was following the burning lights of the village along the trail. "Hmm?" the Finn looked to Berwald, still walking. Berwald decided to follow, along with the little dog, waddling under the weight of the flowered collar.

"Do yoo rem'meber pl'ying in the m'adow?" he asked in his broken accent. Tino, having long since been able to decode the giant's words smiled.

"Yeah, that stupid adventure game of Mathias's. Why?" He asked, stepping over a rotting log, they were almost out of the meadow tall grass.

Berwald felt his face heat up. "D'yoo rem'meber the l'st t'me we pl'yed?" He asked timidly, trying to get the Finn's attention. Tino stopped in his tracks; the dog whining at the lack of movement began to nip at his light blue tunic.

Tino, eyes filled with nostalgia, slowly turned distant. Berwald swallowed hard.

"I remember…" Tino finally spoke, voice soft as butter, but as full of life as the earth. Berwald blinked. Tino remembered and he wasn't mad? He was okay with it? Berwald let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

Tino, blinking back emotions finally laughed nervously. "Ah… well I have to go now, don't laugh but I'm doing the flower tradition." Tino said, starting up his pace again.

Berwald's eyes snapped to attention. Flower Tradition? Does that mean that Tino…is looking for a husband? Berwald felt a glimmer of hope graze his heart.

"Yoo be in m'diens dance?" He asked, quickly. They were out of the meadow now, walking down the village paths. Women were outside dusting the doorstep, some stirring pots of potatoes on the fires, children standing on tip toe as they hung greenery and oak leaves around the stable doors and windows.

The night was alive, but tomorrow was when the real magic began.

Tino paused in mid step, reaching the tall pine that graced his aunt's long house. He turned to Berwald and gave a small smile, forcing himself to not blush. "I might be in the maidens dance tomorrow. Look for me if you wish." Tino stood on the tips of his toes and lightly kissed Berwald's brow, before pulling away and slipping inside the warm mortared house, leaving Berwald outside on the stoop, his face blushing like a Midsummer Bonfire.

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had LOTS of fun with this chapter. Yeah for going into Berwald's childhood! Don't worry this will get M rated soon :D REVIEW DAMNIT
> 
> Authors notes:
> 
> St. John's Festival- A lot of Countries trying to get rid of their Pagan roots tried to substitute Midsummer with St. John the Baptist patron Saint of Genoa, Florence.
> 
> Decorating Long houses and Stables with Greenery- Brought good luck and health to people and livestock.
> 
> "What do we have here? A Couple of Elves amidst us?"- Elves were very popular not only in English and Scottish lore but also In Danish and Norwegian; they were adult like faerie people in Scandinavian lore.
> 
> "Ah…It is Maiden Bright Eye!"- An Old Danish faerie tale about a girl who pulls up a clump of heather and finds a little man with a red cap who grants her three wishes.
> 
> "Berwald and he used to bathe as kids for Ilmatar's sake!*"- Ilmatar was a Finnish Goddess who is the mother of the Finnish Hero/God Väinämöinen when she was impregnated by the Sea wind.


	3. Dream Of Me, My Bride

I'm so sorry I'm late on this guys! I feel so bad! I'm sorry its just school has been piling up and…well, anyway here's your story—Review please even though I do not deserve your awesomeness!

….

Tino's face was greeted with the warm air of the long house. He sniffed happily and smelled the wonderful odor of baking bread with hints of clove, boiling blackberries in heavy metal pots, and syrupy honey cakes rolled in oats. Tino smiled. He had finally gotten a big weight off of his chest and it felt good. Kissing Berwald…had somehow relieved him. He knew at that moment that he had liked Berwald for a very long time. How much he liked him the Finn still did not know. Did he want to take Berwald as his summer husband tomorrow? He didn't know. Did he want to dream of Berwald tonight? He didn't know. Did he want to mingle his body with Berwald's as they made passionate love? You bet your sweet Ass he did.

Stopping to blush, Tino slowly paused before walking along the dirt floor of the cramped long house till he heard a whine and a loud crashing noise. Passing by the small clumped kitchen where his aunt was stirring a fervently bubbling soup, he hurried to the loft ladder that led to the rafters where he and Nikolas slept. He quickly climbed up the rungs of the cedar made steps till he reached the hay filled bedding. Looking up he nearly fell off the ladder from laughter.

Elizabeta was pulling off Nikolas's tunic much to the boys protests and had begun to thrown a tight white linen dress over his small body. Nikolas shivered as the cool night air hit his exposed skin. Björt was giggling madly as he watched the pretty Hungarian woman dress his cousin as a female, taking delight in the scene even more as a decorative hangerock was shoved over his head and tied in the front.* Tino watched with amusement as Nikolas gave a chain of curse words.

Once the garment was fastened by a broach made of bent bone to look like a cross, the Hungarian women smiled at her handy work. Nikolas was adorned with a cobalt blue hangerock on top of the white woolen dress, his tunic, and a light blue sash was wrapped tightly up to his chest to keep the dress from slipping. Frowning slightly, he yanked the broach off and instead clipped it to his hair. Mumbling something about it getting in his way.

Tino laughed. Along with the bone broach Nikolas could almost have passed for a female, except for the lack of a chest. But, turning to Feliks Tino saw the Polish man had already solved that problem. The long haired blonde had stuffed his tunic to the brim with soft plush moss, and was now sewing a bolt of cloth over the tunic to keep the moss in place. After the last stitch was set, Feliks smiled and shoved his hands through the sleeves, setting the dress in place by patting down his homemade chest.

Tino giggled. That is, until he realized it was his turn next. Elizabeta quickly dived for the Finn and threw him onto the rickety wooden logs that held up the loft. Yanking off his boots, tunic, and trousers he was left in only his linen chemise. The Hungarian women smiled wickedly at the young Finn, and quickly got to work, Tino shrieking and throwing a fit the entire time.

"Hey…" An emotionless tone was heard from behind Tino. All eyes turned to the Norwegian with the placid eyes.

"Isn't that Berwald…?"

All eyes grew wide at the mention of the name. Necks craned to the left, trying to get a glimpse out of the dirtied window, until a loud gasp was sounded. Feliks shrieked with giggles and fell onto the hay, swooning and rolling around in the dried alfalfa, getting his dress filthy with the arid grass.

"It's like, really him! Ha-ha, he's just standing there! Like a dumb bear!" Feliks voice glittered. All eyes swooped back to the window.

"Oh, why, it is Berwald. And he's just standing in front of the house. I wonder why he's there… It's like he's frozen in place!" Elizabeta asked as her eyes trained on the tall man. Berwald was indeed in front of the long house. It took a good pair of trained eyes to see in the shallow dark, but it was the tall Swede. Tino felt his heart skip a beat. What if that kiss had been too much for him? It was just a brush of lips on his brow! Nothing to get too worked up about! But…Tino paused. Berwald had been alone for most of his life, and he didn't have many friends besides Tino and his cousins… No room for human contact.

Tino let a small smile grace his lips. Berwald could be so cute and innocent sometimes, to have just a small kiss spiral him into embarrassment.

"Hey! Like, either come up here and make out with Tino or like, get moving buddy!" Feliks stuck his head out of the small blown glass window, his voice annoyingly loud, painful to Tino's ears. In an instant Tino had smacked Feliks head and pushed him down, blushing furiously and glaring down at the Polish man.

Tino gave a quick look back at the window to see that Berwald's face had been dyed red by the Polish mans comment. Like a deer caught in a trap, Berwald turned around swiftly and ran down the road, disappearing into the shrubs. Tino sighed in relief, giving Feliks one more good rapt on his head.

Once Feliks had been shut up and all of them calm it only took a good ten minutes for all the boys to be dressed. Nikolas in his navy blue wool, Feliks in his verdant green fleece, and Tino in a nicely robin-blue dyed flaxen dress. All three boys had to admit, they did look convincing as women—and they were looking mighty fine, if they might add.

"Like, come on ladies, let's go and paint the town!" Feliks cheered, stepping a foot to the door, until he was yanked back by his loose collar.

"Oh no ladies, you have to do some work first!" Elizabeta said, smiling cruelly. She dragged the boys to the hearth and pointed at the steaming pans of food. Potatoes seasoned with rationed salt, pickled herring in clay jars long since forgotten, boiling blackberries strewn with sugar, and even piles upon piles of baking cornbread stuffed with dried apples and drizzled with Honey. Tino felt his mouth water at the sight. But these treats were not for him he thought, at least not all of them. No, they were for the men first, who were up till four this morning gathering scrap wood for the bonfire, and who were also collecting wild mushrooms and geese eggs, fish and rabbit for the real feast tomorrow. After tomorrow the food would be rationed again and the only scrumptious meals the boys would be eating would be porridge and stale rye bread. Tino grumbled in disappointment.

Elizabeta gave each boy a bit of leather and instructed them to carry each dish that she told them too. Feliks carrying the heavy rye bread fresh from the hearth, Tino carrying the roasted rabbit, Nikolas carrying a skirt full of freshly picked cherries, and even Björt carrying what butter was left in the churn from this morning, each one balancing the dish carefully.

Once they were sent outside they all felt silly. They were men. Dressed like women. Carrying food for hungry, hot, sweaty guys. They all sighed in unison.

Nikolas, heaving the small red fruit up in his bundled skirts decided to lead the way first. The Sun had long since gone down, but the camp was alive and burned like a thousand stars had been ignited along the hills. Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.* But for Tino, there was so much more work to be done. Tomorrow he would have to wake up early, bring the animals to drink, collect flowers for the May Pole, then come back and help with the cooking till the real fun began. The real fun…Tino paused.

The maidens dance. Did he dare do it? Did he dare to walk along the soft earth, torso naked, twirling with skirts that opened up like the petals of a morning glory? His body painted with wild swirls representing the Sun God, flowers in his hair to represent the Goddess? To walk along the women and the other young men like him? Searching for a summer husband, searching for a summer love. Tino shook his head, shaking some rabbit gristle on the floor. He let out a frustrated sound at the mess he had made, until, peering down at the floor, he saw the little white puppy from before, come up to the spill and begin to lick it away with a hungry pink tongue.

Then Tino stopped. Where there was a cute little puppy, there was sure to be-Tino looked up and saw the stubborn glare of Berwald's face—a scary ass monster. Tino made an unmanly yelp as he tried to steady his hands, being careful so as not to overthrown the cooked hare. Of all the times to meet the man, it had to be when Tino was in a women's dress. He put on a brave face and smiled up at Berwald, his face heating up like a freshly lit candle.

Holding out the plate of slowly cooling meat he offered it to Berwald.

"Hungry?" the small Finn asked sheepishly.

But Berwald didn't hear him, he was too absorbed in the fact that Tino, his little summer wife—as he decided to call him—was wearing women's clothing. Berwald could not take his eyes off of the Finn's delicate frame. Though most women's dresses were thick and bulky, Tinos fit him just right, hugging every curve and every tuck and wave, leaving less and less to the Imagination. And oh what an imagination it was.

Berwald could just see the little Finn, sprawled out on a bed of leaves, legs spread wide to the sky, head adorned with morning glories and heather, chest beating wildly and eyes squeezed tight, breathe tingling as Berwald lowered himself into the heat that was Tino. Thrusting and plunging, feeling the sweet warmth around him… Berwald immediately opened his eyes in embarrassment. He looked down again to see that Tino had sat down on a low table and was proceeding to fill a wooden bowl with a heavy helping of the roasted rabbit, along with a bit of stewed squash and a few slabs of bread. Berwald looked curiously at the table set with food.

Once Tino was done he wiped his hands on his dress and looked back at Berwald, face bright with accomplishment. "Well, Berwald, eat up! You have a big day tomorrow and so do I!" The Finn said merrily, wandering a little ways away to come back with a bubbling cup of mead. He set it down near the table and ushered the giant Swede to eat, taking a bit of bread and giving it to the little puppy who was now begging for a little snack.

Berwald, still thoroughly confused as to what was going on, just sat down and began to pick up the food, shoving bits of bread, spoonfuls of squash and rabbit meat into his mouth. He paused only once to wipe the messy stew off his chin, wanting to show some good manners in front of his wife. It was only till he spilled gravy on his jaw once more that he began to get frustrated. Eating with manners was such a chore for a man who lived nearly alone for the entirety of his life. But it was only until he felt the cool touch of a finger on his chin that he looked down to see that Tino had scooped up the extra food on Berwald's chin with his finger and licked the digit clean. Slow, tantalizingly, teasingly clean. Or at least that's how Berwald saw it. But Tino couldn't have had that in mind, not his pure innocent Tino…

After licking his finger with a deliberately slow stroke of his tongue Tino smiled to himself. He hoped that had gotten Berwald's blood going. If anything he wanted to catch the Swede's eye, and if playing a bit naughty did it, then Tino was all up for it. Tino was a man, he had needs too, and he was more that positive Berwald could fulfill those needs.

After sharing that small emotional walk down memory lane with the Swedish man Tino knew he was ready. He wanted Berwald and he wanted him bad. Problem was; how much did Berwald want him? Tino couldn't rely on silly rumors anymore. He needed to know if the Swede really was interested.

Furrowing his brow he started to brainstorm ideas. Perhaps if he really showed off tomorrow night at the bonfire dances? You know, really shake what his mama gave him! Tino blushed. Then maybe the Swede would take notice…

Tino was brought to attention as he heard a thick slap strike the warm summer air. Turning around he saw Mathias, a blazing red mark on his cheek and a few clusters of cherries in his hand. He was grinning from ear to ear at a furious Nikolas.

"What Norge? You were offering them so I took some." The Danish man began to say before he was cut off by the fierce glare of the Norwegian.

"You did not take some! You just deliberately stuck your hand down my crotch and groped me you pervert!" his voice was strained. Mathias just laughed.

"I was just practicing for tomorrow, when I really take your cherry…" He said wickedly, moving his face closer to the young Norsemen, their lips inches apart. Then another smack was heard and Mathias was left on the floor, groaning in pain, Nikolas walking off curtly.

Tino was about to burst into giggles when he noticed Berwald had finished with his food. Tino, forgetting all about the stupid Danish man, reached to take the plate. But he paused when saw a pinkish scar on Berwald's palm. In an instant he cupped Berwald's paw like hand in his and turned over Berwald's palm to gaze and the gash. The wound had been treated, but poorly. Scowling, Tino took the corners of his tunic from underneath his dress, flashing Berwald a bit of skin in the process he guessed, and slowly ripped the cloth. Then, soaking the strip of cloth in a bit of water and honey nearby in a pitcher, he wrapped it neatly along Berwald's.

Dipping his head down, he lightly kissed the bandaged wound, eye lashes fluttering slightly as he raised his head again. Looking back at the giant he blushed and turned away. "Ah… there you go." He said, voice shy, losing all its courage it had not but a minute ago. Berwald felt his blush soar over his face even to his ears. His wife had treated his wound. His wife had actually cared for him and kissed his palm. Well. This was just too much for Berwald to take.

Lunging his arms at the Finn with more assurance he pulled the Finnish man close and buried his head in Tino's shoulder, smelling the river, the meadow, the baking of bread and the sweet aroma of morning glories in the Finn's scent. How Berwald wanted more. He longed to just run his hands through that silky threaded hair, card his hands through it and feel it glide through his calloused fingers like spring water. He needed the Finn more than he needed air.

Breathing in that scent one more time, he lightly ghosted his lips over one of the Finn' ears, breath becoming unbearably hot. His mind raced and his heart burned. It was now or never.

"Drömmen ommigikvällminbrud."* It was said in such a harsh whisper, with the sweetest of dialects that Tino slid his eyes shut to envision the words across his mind. Dream of me tonight my bride. Tino shivered slightly, wracking his brain to remember every bit of Swedish he could remember. The language was harsh and rough, but on Berwald's tongue it was pure bliss.

The movement was swift and hurriedly, as if the giant was so embarrassed he dared not show his red stained face. And, as Berwald pushed away with the skittishness of a young Stag, Tino was left on the small wooden logs and table, his face bright pink, breath coming out with heaving sighs. Tino could do nothing more but stare at the man who was trotting down the fire lit path. Staring at his summer husband, his eyes wandering only to him.

…

After all the dirtied dishes were put away into pales of water to soak, and the working men fed, the people of the village began to flock to the back meadows, each carrying a lantern or candle decorated with summer flowers. It was at that time that Nikolas, Tino, and Feliks were marching down the road, skirts hiked up, heads held high, and there last shred of manliness' being devoured like a moth to a flame. It was time for the Flower Tradition.

Each man dreaded it to a certain extent. Feliks dreaded the fact that his dress would be ruined by the mid morning dew, Nikolas dreaded the actual dreaming of his "husband", and Tino dreaded the fact that Berwald might not been in his dream at all! What if he wasn't? What if Tino dreamed about Eduard, or Ivan, the creepy Russian man that lived in the meadow with all those sunflowers? Tino's face immediately turned pale and sickly.

He felt his feet pick up on the dirt, his hands spasmodically clutching the rough fabric of his dress. He was nervous. Looking next to him he saw a girl, who was from Belgium, skip merrily to the other awaiting maidens, a tall and big breasted Ukrainian girl named Katyusha and her sister Natalia, and a pretty petite Taiwanese girl with a big bright flower pinned to her dark chocolate colored hair. Even The Italian twins had come to participate in the tradition!

The rest of the faces were familiar, with crowns of Heather, Dogwood blossoms, Lily, Bedstraw, Caper and Cowslip all adorning the long and luscious hair. Tino, wearing his own headdress of morning glories, began to feel a bit self conscience. He wasn't nearly as beautiful as all these women. Who's to say Berwald wouldn't just pick one of them instead of him? Tino scowled sourly. He was only brought back from his thoughts as he began to trip over his feet as the parade grew more packed, girls of all ages, from sixteen to forty-five all lining up, giggles and chatting.

Some of them looked to Tino with bright eyes, others commenting on how cute and pretty he looked. But this did nothing to calm his nerves. He felt even sicker to his stomach when he saw that they were coming to the end of a thicket where the women would start to gather the flowers.

It would all happen in a blur, Tino scrambling over the brambles and grass, scooping up a flower here and a flower there till he collected seven and ran back to a low set fence were he would have to hop over it, dress and all, and make it back to his aunts long house. He felt like punching something.

But he was doing this for love. For Berwald's love to be exact. He sucked in a big gulp of air and stuck out his chest proudly as he was led to the front of the willow thicket. There, he stood waiting with all the women and his four friends, waiting the drums to beat and the pipes to play.

Then, like a dream, Tinos gaze was torn away from the field. Around a thicket of Ash saplings, some men began to form along the low fence that was to be hopped over, Tino recognizing most of them. It was the hunting party, they had come to watch. Tino felt his nerves become unraveled as he saw a tall, brooding figure with flaxen hair. Berwald. Why was Berwald here? Did he want to make Tino lose his nerve?

Tino fiddled with his dress. He couldn't help but feel his legs growing weaker and weaker and his mouth drier and drier. Damn it all! Why did Berwald have to be here and watching? It was bad enough to be a guy dressed in public as a woman, but to have the Swede watching his every move? Tino could barely stand it.

Nikolas, sensing the disturbance in his friend's attitude, turned to his attention to the direction that the young Finn's eyes were gazed upon. He grimaced in annoyance. The Dane. The stupid Dane was leering at him-practically drooling. It was disgusting. Nikolas frowned from the view of the men and tugged Tino's sleeve, making the Finn turn around suddenly, cheeks red.

"Don't let them get to you. It's just some flower picking. Once it's over we can go home and forget all about it." Nikolas then turned his head back to the field, sighing inwardly with annoyance at all the giggling girls.

But Tino couldn't help but let it bug him! Those words, spoken with such care not but a few minutes ago! Berwald wanted Tino to dream of him tonight and by all the Gods Tino was going to dream of him! Setting a determined smile on his face the Finn looked back at the field. The outskirts of the brush were illuminated with dapples of summer flowers, in full bloom, getting ready to curl in on them for the night. Tino's eyes began to scan wildly. In a few seconds he had his mind set on seven flowers near an old cut down tree, he just had to be the first one to get there. But his calculating thoughts were brought to a steadfast halt as the thundering of a deer hide drum began to vibrate around the field.

In an instant the sweet and melodic sound of a Sheppard's pipe blazed through the tall winding grass. The first throng of girls began to dash into the meadow, pushing and shouting with giddiness. Tino just gawked. Was he supposed to look like that? All happy and girlish? Skipping at a breakneck speed? Well that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. Tino had a penis. And he sure as hell was going to act like it.

Starting off slowly with Nikolas, Feliks and the Italian twins at his heels, he began to prod the twisting ropes of grass till each boy went their own way to look for their perfect flower. Tino, having to swerve as the Belarusian girl with the long blonde hair almost mowed him down with her fierce running, muttering something that sounded faintly like "marriage…brother…marry me." Tino cringed.

Skirts bundled up in his hands he padded lightly to the fallen tree that he had mapped out earlier, using the moon and the torch light to guide him, though the sky would only be dark for a few more hours. Looking down he paused to smile as his gaze met with the vibrant color of a patch bellflower, their purplish hue looking soft and delicate in the torch light. Tino, giving thanks to the Gods, plucked the long stalk of the flower and lightly held it in his palm. One down, six to go.

Taking a few steps backwards he whirled his skirts around to spy a plump golden chrysanthemum. His face becoming bright he clutched the flower and added it to the other. Soon he had almost all seven. Along with the Bellflower, Chrysanthemum, bloodroot blossoms, hyacinth bud, and periwinkle Tino as well on his way to finishing. Clutching the threads of flowers in his fingers he looked up and felt his heart in his throat. Berwald was watching his every move.

Tino immediately lowered his gaze and felt a slow blush creep up on his face. The giant Swede, the source of Tino's affections, had his eyes pinned on the Finn. That creeping stare, filled with what most people would guess was malice, was burning. But Tino knew better. He had seen that gaze on Berwald before, when he was young, when they still talked. It was the look that Berwald would always give him before he kissed his cheek at the end of the adventure game. Only now the look had differed tremendously. What was once a glance of pure innocent puppy-love-had turned to stone hard lust. Berwald was watching with eyes set on a look of hunger, and it shook Tino to his core.

"Oh Gods…why? Why does he have to make my heart beat like a drum?" Tino asked himself, his breath quickening. He only needed two more flowers, then he would jump over the fence and be allowed to shut himself up in his warm little hay loft. Were he could think. He needed to think! He wanted Berwald, and Berwald wanted him. But how to go about it? It's not like Tino could just go up to the Swede and say 'insert Swedish fun-toy into Finnish hole'. Tino scrunched his face. Definitely not. So then. That was it. The Maidens dance would settle it.

Tino flowed his hands over the spiky weeds before wandering off to the rifts of dirt. When he was young he had watched the maidens dance, seeing the pretty women and men hop in the dirt circle against the bonfires glowing light. It was magical. The chanting and the happy yelps and glees as the drums beat on, the people clapping and hooting with laughter as the dancers speed up, testing their bodies, hopping on dainty feet, flowers looped into their hair, torsos bare, painted Runes decorating their bodies.* It was magical.

And then it was time for the leader of tribe, the one who was anointed the best. He got to choose first from the ring of dancers. It was always a pretty girl who was chosen, though sometimes the chosen bride was male, but hardly ever. It left Tino with a sore spot in his gut. Who's to Say Berwald would choose him? Tino shook his head. He couldn't dwell on this now! He had to find the rest of his flowers! So, swaying among the grasses he finally found the last of the buds underneath a few snarly oak saplings. A long stalked Ox eyed Daisy greeted him, its impending yellow eye glaring at Tino. He giggled. It reminded him of Berwald. He smiled at it fondly before scooping it up in his already growing bundle. Once all seven were collected he trotted back to the meadow entry way until a feathery touch clutched the skirts of his dress. Tino whirled his head around at the contact to see Felik's, a foolish grin on his lips, hands clutching a small bouquet.

Unknown to Tino, Berwald had been gazing at the young Finn from a distance for a while now. And at every flower the young male picked he prayed to the Gods it would help mystify Tino's dream so he could see the Swedish man. He wanted that delicate body of Tino's almost as much as he wanted his loving heart. Berwald would do anything for his little wife's heart, he only wished to cradle it and keep it safe forever. And damn if his little wife wore a dress every day, well it was something he could certainly get used to.

"How many flowers do you, like, have?" The grinning Polish man smiled brightly. Tino sputtered and looked down at his cluster of flowers, counting madly. "Um… Seven!" he squeaked out. Felik's squealed, clapping his hands together.

"Yay! Me too, come on, let's like, jump over the railing with Nikolas." In an instant the Polish man looped his arms with Tino and together they met up with Nikolas who was blatantly staring at a weed.

Behind the boys a few girls were scrambling in the brambles for the last of the dogwood blossoms, their skirts fluttering in the last hour of darkness. Tomorrow there would be no night, only day, and yet the bonfires will burn.* Tino smiled to himself. Tomorrow would be it.

"Come on! It's time to….RUN!" Felik's wined and with a kick to their heels all three boys launched into the air as fast as they could with the speed that could match the fastest horse. In a few seconds they had come to the fallen logs and hopped over each with ease till the looming fence was in the distance. Already several girls were attempting to daintily step over the rounded poles, but oh no, not for Tino. He was a man, and he would jump over that damn fence in a manly fashion. Smiling viciously, a glint in his eye, he sprung up, higher and higher, moccasins drifting over the log, he was gonna' make it he was gonna' make it he was gonna'—fall flat on his ass.

"Ouch…" he winced and rubbed his bum, picking off a few prickly thistles till he felt a throng of strong arms lift him up and set him on his feet. Looking up he let out a small mewl of embarrassment as the stony face of Berwald greeted him. "Yoo 'kay?" He asked, steadying the Finn, noticing the pretty wildflowers in his hands.

"Ah…Yes!" he squeaked again, shifting out of the bearish grip. Behind him he heard a thud and the knocking of wood to see that Felik's had thrown his entire weigh over the bar and was now stuck between the folds of the wood, his goofy smile still on his face.

"Uh…Liet, like, a little help?" he wriggled in the binds of the wood. In an instant the young Lithuanian shyly helped the blonde through the wood and set him down. Tino grew jealous of their relationship, how easily they could be romantic with facial expressions and light touches. He yearned for it.

"Hey, lookie' what I found!" The loud voice of the Dane rang around the trees. All eyes swerved to see a thrashing Nikolas atop the shoulders of the tall blonde, his cocky smile gleaming.

"Let go of me Danmark!" The exasperated growls of the Norse men shot through the now light filled night. But the Danish man just ignored him and swung him till he was holding him bridal style.

"So Norge, you gonna' dream of me tonight my sweet?"

"Bite me."

"Where?"

Smack!

"Like, anyway! We have to go now, but like, you guys should totally wait for us by the firelight if you like, catch my drift!" Tino and Nikolas's faces burned brightly like the new awakening sun. Did Felik's really have to be this damned foreword?

Denmark pouted but dropped the Norwegian lightly on the ground, but not before swinging him around and giving him a peck on the cheek—to which Nikolas slapped him again.

Once Nikolas and Felik's had wandered off, Tino was left with Berwald staring at him. Tino squirmed under the thick and heavy gaze, unsure what to do.

"Ah… well… See you tomorrow..." He stuttered before turning around quickly. But before he could escape he felt strong arms bind him again and drag him to a warm and solid body.

"Sweet dreams…" The words were unmarred and said through strained teeth, but they were still there none the less, and filled to the brim with an emotion that sounded to Tino like love.

And in an instant they were gone. Tino turned around to find that the Giant of a man had disappeared through the woods with the other group of men, leaving Tino alone, his heart throbbing with an emotion he could now name. Love.

…

"Hey…Bear-shit-for-brains-wald! I wanna' talk with you, maybe over a cup of mead?" The Danish man's voice made Berwald want to punch a tree.

"Why?" Berwald kept on walking to his longhouse by the Fir trees.

"Because! I wanna' talk manly stuff with you!" He said, catching up with Berwald's long strides.

Berwald didn't even break a sweat. "No."

Mathias frowned, but within a few seconds his face lit up to a sly grin. "What if I told you we could talk about Tino?" Berwald's eyes widened and his pace halted. He turned to Mathias and blinked.

"W'at 'bout h'm?" He asked. Mathias adjusted his tunic's skirt and brushed off some dirty from his hair.

"Well, first of all. What makes you so sure the little twerp will accept you at the fires? And even if he does, do you even know what to do with him? This isn't for little kids Berwald, this is for the grownups…" They had rounded the dirt road to come to the door of Berwald's long house, his family's carvings and knots welded into the ancient wood.

"I k'ow th't…" Berwald muttered softly. He knew this wasn't kids play. It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.* And it was also a chance to become untied with Tino, something Berwald liked the idea of very much.

"And who knows, what if you accidentally break him? Haha." Mathias clapped Berwald on the back. "He is a skinny lad ya' know."

Berwald took a shaky breath, but Denmark kept on talking. "I mean, do you even know how to do it?" he cackled. Berwald paused. Both men were outside the door still, the sun beginning to warm their backs and it was still late at night.

"I…k'nd of k'ow how…"Berwalds voice was marled, unsure of what he was saying.

"Well I hope so Berwald! Because if you don't pick him first and dazzle him at the bonfire, that Russian Ivan may just scoop him up and 'become one with him'." Mathias shivered and waved his hands in the air.

"Anyway, good luck, oh and Berwald," Mathias started to walk down the little path, "tell me if he spits or swallows." Mathias cackled. Berwald frowned and walked back into the house. He half wondered what Mathias could have meant by 'spits or swallows'.

"M'ybe it's 'a D'nish th'ng…" he mumbled before closing the door behind him.

…

Tino had just finished helping Nikolas tuck Björt into his little cubby-like bed before following his cousin up the rung ladder to the hay rafters. He was nervous and his body showed it as his hands shook with each climb of the ladder. Once they reached the top Nikolas shook off the dress and apron and unpinned the bone clip that had held his hair in place. He then flopped on the scratchy hay along with Tino who was unpleasantly exhausted.

"Let's get this over with…" Nikolas lifted up his potato sack pillow and shoved the flowers underneath, grumbling as he laid his head down with a soft thud. Tino following suit, smiling to himself and praying to every God and Goddess he could name to enchant his dreams with visions of Berwald.

The birds were singing outside, confused at the change in the sky with the blazing light, and Tino admitted it did make it hard to sleep, but his bones were tired and his head hurt and his heart was sore from beating so fast. But no matter how much his body ached a smile still graced his lips. He would dream of his husband tonight, he was sure of it.

…

Yeah I'm a bitch :D anyway hoped you liked this chapter! I made it extra long for you guys!

Authors Notes:

"-a decorative hangerock was shoved over his head and tied in the front.*"—this piece of clothing was an outer apron that Viking women wore so that their tunic would not get dirty; it also had various pockets to hold domestic tools. I just thought it'd be fucking hilarious to imagine Norway in one.

"Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.*"—on Midsummer Eve there is no night. All along Scandinavia except for Denmark, the sun is shining all day long and it never goes down till the next day. It's quite beautiful but a bitch to get some sleep in.

"Drömmen ommigikvällminbrud."* - shitty translation is shitty. It's supposed to translate to "Dream of me my Bride." Correct if wrong please!

"-painted Runes decorating their bodies.*"—Runes are an alphabet that was used most commonly in Norwegian and British history; they are still used today by Pagans everywhere, though they are mostly associated with the use of magic now.

"It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.*"—I follow the British traditions of this festival more than Scandinavian, but in the English festival of Beltane, couples would often run into the forest and consummate in the name of the Goddess and God. I kind of combined what I know from Beltane and Litha traditions on this one guys so bare with me, but most of the 'weddings' in the Viking days were mock weddings that were not real but just for one night.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about all the blood in the first chapter! Poor piggy…. REVIEW DAMNIT
> 
> Authors note:
> 
> Midsummer- Midsummer is a Pagan holiday that takes place in June when the sun is at its highest in power. Certain masculine Gods or Gods representing the Sun are honored.
> 
> "Flower Tradition"- I have no idea if there is an actual term for it, but it's basically a tradition that is most dominate in Sweden were unmarried women place seven flowers underneath their pillow, and when they sleep, their future husband will appear in their dreams.
> 
> Wianki- A Tradition in Poland were at Midsummer, women throw wreaths of flowers into the Baltic Sea or into rivers.
> 
> Midsommarstång- Swedish term for Midsummer


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